


Día de Muertos

by coldfusion9797



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Afterlife, Coco Inspired, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 02:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19938589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfusion9797/pseuds/coldfusion9797
Summary: Vasquez returns to Rose Creek to let Faraday know that he hasn't been forgotten.





	Día de Muertos

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my drafts. Just a little something I wrote back when I first saw Coco.

On November 1st Vasquez finds himself back in Rose Creek. Not much has changed, except that all is well.

In his room at the saloon he carefully sits a photograph on the dresser. It took him months to track it down, and he'd never been so grateful that the guero was as vain as a peacock.

He lets his fingers trace the gold painted frame as he smiles gently down at the image.

Faraday has been gone much longer now than Vasquez had known him in life. Just a week they'd been acquainted, and Vasquez had so much more to say.

That yes, Faraday may have been vain and cocky, but it was annoyingly justified. He was handsome, and he was as good in a fight as he claimed to be, and Vasquez would have admitted to that and so much more if only they'd had more time.

He knows he can't ever see Faraday again, but he can still show him how he felt. Show him that he hasn't, and never will be, forgotten.

He polishes up Maria and places her on the ofrenda, then he goes to Faraday's grave and tends to it.

He lays his hand on the dirt and speaks in a soft, commanding tone.

"You better come tomorrow, guero. I had to sweat for that picture."

Día de Muertos dawns crisp and clear. Vasquez ignores the strange looks and obvious whispers as he lays a path of orange marigold petals from the gravesite to the little makeshift ofrenda. The hotel room isn't home but it's the closest thing they'd had to one for however brief a time.

Then he waits.

Joshua Faraday had gotten under his skin like no man before. He didn't know why someone who irritated him so, should've come to mean so much. At first he'd wanted to cut him down where he stood, but in the end he'd been very sad to learn of his death.

"You know, I've never been so grateful to know a Mexican before."

Vasquez would recognise that cocky tone anywhere. He turns to see Faraday, looking a little different to how he remembers, but there's no doubt that swagger belongs to him.

Where once he was firm flesh and pale skin, now he's glistening white bone, but the eyes, they are the same.

"Good to see you, guero."

"Is it? I coulda sworn you didn't like me very much."

"That is because you are an idiot. You're not as clever as you think you are."

"Is that so?"

"Sí. Why would I go to the trouble of putting your picture on the ofrenda if I didn't like you?"

"If I knew what an ofranka was, I might be able to answer that question."

"See? An idiot," Vasquez says, with a smile and a shake of his head, stepping aside to allow Faraday a view of the shrine. "It is a place for people we have loved and lost."

Faraday's eyes sweep over the dresser, loaded with food and flowers and keepsakes.

"Well, would you look at that..." the dead man says, stepping forward to examine the offerings.

He admires Maria, who is sparkling like a new pin from all the polishing.

"Taking good care of my girl."

"Someone has to."

It takes a minute but Vasquez can see the exact moment that the penny drops and Faraday registers what this all means.

"You said loved?"

"Sí."

"And you made this ofranko-thingy for me?"

"Sí. I had to see you again. There are things I never got to say."

"I see."

"Sí."

"Stop saying that."

"It only means yes."

"I know," Faraday says, as though his comprehension is a bad thing.

"Is this unwelcome? I only wanted you to know that you will not be forgotten. In Mexico, that is important."

"We're not in Mexico," Faraday cleverly points out.

"No," Vasquez allows. "There is something else too." 

He pauses, thinks. He'd never felt like this about anyone. Now that Faraday is here, he just needs to tell the truth of it.

"Before you died, I thought we would ride out of here together."

"And where would we have gone?"

"Anywhere," Vasquez says, reaching out, trying to touch Faraday's bony fingers but they slip right through him like he's made of smoke. He looks up again into Faraday's green eyes. "It wouldn't have mattered."

"Oh," Faraday says, eyes growing wide in his skull. "This idea of yours is because of a romantic inclination?"

There's only one answer Vasquez can give.

"Sí."

"Didn't I tell you to stop saying that?"

Vasquez opens his mouth to answer, Faraday preempts his reply. 

"Sí," the white man supplies with a roll of his eyes. 

"Yes," Vasquez echoes drawing closer still, wishing so much that they could touch, that the chance had not been lost. 

Still, the fact that Faraday hasn't run out yet gives Vasquez hope. After all, living is only a temporary state of being.

With proof of the afterlife standing right in front of him, Vasquez is overtaken by a romantic notion.

"Wait for me, mi cielito. I'm still a wanted man. Chances are you won't have to wait long."

Faraday gives him a thoughtful look and takes a minute to answer.

"I have no idea whether that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"That all depends on whether or not you feel the same way I do," Vasquez says, seeking a sign that his feelings might be returned.

"Even if I do, I don't think you dying is the answer."

"How else can we be together?"

A crafty smile slides onto Faraday's face. One that makes Vasquez fearful and excited at the same time.

"You ever been to New Orleans?"


End file.
